Four Portraits of Drummers

A bass drum is the heartbeat of any musical ensemble. In a military band its beat sets the stride cadence for marching soldiers. In a pop band its thumping accents mark the step turns for dancers. In an orchestra it thunders at every crescendo and always strikes the last wallop in a finale. It's an essential instrument for a wide variety of rhythmic music but it's often underappreciated for how it synchronizes the pulse of an ensemble's musicians. 

This bass drummer certainly knew his worth as he wrote a note on his postcard photo. 

Let this do Your Drumming  

He is a young man, late teens or early twenties, dressed in dark trousers, a bright white uniform jacket with white bowtie, and a white hat with his band's name — ELLINGTON. He is actually holding two instruments—a bass drum and a set of cymbals. His drum uses old-fashioned rope tensioning for the heads. Bits of leather called ears tighten the rope loops to make the heads taunt for a ringing thud. One cymbal is attached to the drum shell while the other is held in the drummer's left hand. It's a traditional coupling for a percussionist which lets the bass drum sound strong beats while cymbals mark weaker afterbeats as in BOOM-pah, BOOM-pah, BOOM-pah, etc. And so he doesn't lose count there is a music lyre attached to the top of the drum to hold his part.

Unfortunately his postcard is not marked and I can only guess that it was taken in the United States sometime around 1906-1916. There are eight towns named Ellington in the U.S. and it's likely that each one had a band in the early 20th century. And of course the band might be named for its band leader, too. However I don't think Duke Ellington's band, which was formed a few decades later, every did much marching. 

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My second drummer stands in front of a photographer's studio backdrop, a painted scene of a bucolic landscape. At his waist hangs a snare drum which has threaded rod tensioners and possibly a metal shell. The drum is tilted so that his drumsticks are positioned in a characteristic grip that puts more power to the dominant right hand. Notice that he has his music held in a lyre which is pinned to his coat. This man looks to be in his late twenties or thirties. He wears a bandsman's uniform and kepi hat in a dark color, typical of those worn by bands in the late 19th century. His long twisty mustache likely dates him to the 1890s. 

This cabinet card photograph was taken at the Photographic Art Studio of C. Numa in Halstein, Iowa. At sometime in the distant past the photo was mounted on a wall as it has four holes punched through the cardstock.  

Halstein is situated in west central Iowa about 46 miles east of Sioux City. In 1890, on its first census, it had just 539 inhabitants. A decade later in 1900 it could boast of a 61.4% increase to 870. Its current population is about 1,500.   

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My third percussionist is a cymbals player, technically not a drum, but still a vital part of a drum section. The flashy clash of brass cymbals has always been an important sound color in music dating back to the ancient cultures of China, Egypt, and India. European music adopted cymbals from the Ottoman Empire's Janissary military bands. In the late 18th century both Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Joseph Haydn used cymbals to add an exotic Turkish flavor to their music.  

This young man stands in front of another photographer's faux wooded glen but with extra 3-D shrubbery, grass, and stumps to add realism. He keeps a tight grip on his pair of cymbals as the most embarassing moment for any percussionist is to unwittingly initiate an accidental cymbal crash. His bandsman's uniform is similar to the previous drummer but I think it dates from the 1880s. The white belt across his left shoulder is for his music satchel, hidden by his right hand. I don't know that I've ever seen a cymbalist use a music lyre. Maybe they just memorize the score. His kepi hat has large badge that in neat lettering reads Seventh Ward Band,  which relates to a neighborhood section of his hometown of Johnstown, Pennsylvania.

The photo was taken by photographer G. M. Greene of No 127 Franklin Steet, opposite the M. E. Stone Church, in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. Johnstown. His full name was George Miles Greene. Born in 1835 he set up a successful studio in downtown Johnstown which was tragically destroyed in the Great Johnstown Flood of 1889. 

This horrendous catastrophe occurred on Friday, 31 May 1889, after the South Fork Dam, located on the Little Conemaugh River, 14 miles (23 km) upstream of Johnstown, ruptured after several days of extremely heavy rainfall. Over 14.55 million cubic meters of water was suddenly released and the resulting flood killed 2,208 people. The damage cost to the city and environs was estimated at $17 million (equivalent to $536 million in 2024).

Mr. Greene was able to restart his business but in 1894 poor health forced him to sell it. He died the following year at age 65. 

Because of this terrible calamity this photo must date prior to May 1889. It also begs a question, did the young man survive? We can never know but it adds a special back story to the photo.

* * *

My fourth drummer is a handsome young man with arguably the best mustache. He leans against a faux plinth with a dramatic natural scene behind him, not a landscape, I think, but either a seascape or river/lake view. His arms and legs are casually crossed with his shako hat and music satchel placed atop the plinth and his snare drum lying at his feet. He wears a very impressive military style uniform with striped trousers, cutaway jacket, white belt, and fringed epaulets. It very like a state militia/nation guardsman's uniform. On his white music satchel is a name: Chelsea.  

Chelsea is a small city in Washtenaw County, Michigan, about 53 miles west of Detroit, in between Ann Arbor and Jackson, Michigan. In 1880 Chelsea had 1,160 residents and in 140+ years its population has grown to around 5,500. 

The photographer was E. E. Shaver of Chelsea whose cardstock back has an nice illustration of a camera and artist's palette illuminated by the sun. Just above is a wonderful clear note with names and a date. 

Mr. G. A. Lacey
Original member of the
Excelsior Cornet Band
organzed (sic) Feb. 19 - 1878
Presented by Lillie Wackenhut

The snare drummer was George A. Lacey. In the 1880 U. S. census for Chelsea village he was listed, age 29, next to his wife, Phebe Lacey, age 27, with no children. George's occupation was "Watch Tinker", i.e. watch repairer. Unfortunately I was unable to find any more references to him in any official records or newspapers. So he will remain lost in time.

The photographer was Ernest Ebenizer Shaver. He was also listed in Chelsea's 1880 census, at age 30 living with his wife, Martha Shaver, age 22, but without children. Ernest's occupation was "Deguerian (sic) Artist."  According to another short history on Chelsea, Ernest Shaver, like George Lacey, was also a founding member of Chelsea's Excelsior Cornet Band. I found just one reference to the band in an 1881 report about a county band contest where it won 2nd prize. It was described as having just 13 musicians. In other reports it played for local dances and patriotic events but does not seem to have lasted more than a decade. Shaver died in 1917.

 Lillie Wackenhut was also in the 1880 census. She was the youngest of two daughters of George and Martha Wackenhut. Her older sister Letta was 3 and Lillie was just 1 year of age. George Wackenhut was 29 and worked as a "Clerk in Store". Since he was the same age as George, I suspect they both played together with Ernest in the Excelsior Cornet Band. I'd bet anything that Ernest made portraits of all the band's members, too, especially as I think George Lacey is posing in a splendid new uniform. 

The bottom phrase in the annotation: "Presented by Lillie Wackenhut" sounds to me like it was a gift from Lillie, and not to Lillie, especially as she was not yet born when the Excelsior Cornet Band was established. I suspect that when she was much older she gave this photo to someone or some historical society as a memento of Chelsea's cultural history. I also think it's possible that she had copies of the other portraits of the band's members and may have donated them too. Lillie May Wackenhut died in 1965 at age 86 and is buried with her parents in a cemetery in Chelsea, Michigan. I could not find any information that she ever married or had children. 

***

Nearly every antique photograph in my collection of a band has drummers. A band's name was often stenciled onto the head of a bass drum which serves to identify the band and its location. Bass drums, snare drums and cymbals are not complicated instruments and, of course, never get to play a melody. But to keep a musical group together, drums require a player who has a fine sense of rhythm and impeccable timing. For some inexplicable reason portraits of drummers are surprising rare. I have hundreds of cdv and cabinet photos of individual musicians with their cornet, clarinet, trombone, tuba, violin, cello, and the like, but hardly any percussion musicians pictured with their drum. The cymbal player from Johnstown is the first one I have acquired like that. I'll keep my eye out for more.      

To finish with some drum noise
here is a short YouTube video
from the Marching.com channel
of the U.S. Marine Drum & Bugle Corps Percussion
playing their warmup drill just before the closing ceremony
of the World Association of Marching Show Bands (WAMSB)
2023 World Championships held in Buckhannon, West Virginia.
It's a good demonstration of how drummers
think differently than other musicians.

Did you know the U.S. military issued cow bells?

And here is another YouTube video
from the Marching.com channel
of the Euroband Rotterdam (Netherlands)
in the 2025 Corso Zundert flower parade.
The cameraman is positioned at the front
of the band as it marches
giving a great viewpoint of the drummers
and the drum major.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where no one ever keeps score.

 

The Well-dressed Trombonist - Under the Eagle

 

The America Bald Eagle has been the symbol of our nation since 1782 when Congress chose it for the design of the Great Seal of the United States. With wings spread wide, an eagle's talons grasp 13 arrows in its left foot and an olive branch with 13 leaves in its right. In its beak is a ribbon with the Latin phrase: E Pluribus Unum ("Out of many, one"). 

Great Seal of the United States
Source: Wikimedia

In 1775 during the Revolutionary War, General George Washington had his officers display cockades on their hats to distinguish their rank. Initially he wanted these decorative knots of ribbons or rosettes in different colors so that "the field officers may have red or pink colored cockades in their hats, the captains yellow or buff, and the subalterns green.” But by 1777 his ragged army from the 13 colonies changed to using a simple black cockade, which, not by chance, happened to be the Hanoverian color of King George III.

In February 1778 the United States signed a Treaty of Alliance with France. Since the color favored by the French King Louis XVI was white, Washington ordered his soldiers to display a new Alliance Cockade on their hats that was black with a white center. The supporting French troops likewise wore an Alliance Cockade of white with a black center.

When George became President in 1789 among his many new responsibilities was deciding on appropriate uniform colors and insignia for the U.S. military. The old black cockades wouldn't work since that were still a British army style. The white on black was similarly politically incorrect since France had adopted a new tricolor of  blue, white and red as a symbol of its recent revolution. (Poor Louis XVI tried to wear one but it didn't really suit his hat.) 

To solve this fashion problem some clever Americans came up with an easy solution that Washington approved—putting an eagle pin onto the center of a black rose cockade. On 9 January 1799 his Secretary of War, James McHenry, ordered "All persons belonging to the army, to wear a black cockade, with a Small white Eagle in the centre. The cockade of non-commissioned officers, musicians and privates, to be of leather, with Eagles of tin." 

This pin depicted an eagle with down-swept wings sitting on a bank of clouds. That design lasted hardly more than a decade when in 1812 it was changed to suit another war with King George III, this time adding arrows and an olive branch to the eagle. In 1821 it was reworked again by removing the clouds and setting the eagle with outstretched wings and a shield on its breast. With only small alterations, over the next two centuries that eagle design became the standard insignia worn by officers and troops in the U. S. Army. My dad wore one on his hats during his 25 year career as an army officer.

  

Today, in honor of the 250th anniversary of America's Declaration of Independence I present a collection of eagles worn by bandsmen, mostly trombonists, who served in regimental bands. The bandsmen also wear a pointy headgear that for a few decades in the late 19th century was the fashionable helmet used by most military bands and troops. 

My first trombonist posed in a photographer's studio leaning casually on a fine upholstered chair in front of a painted scene with weird perspective. It's a half-plate tintype, more correctly called a ferrotype, about 6¼ x 4½ inches, an uncommon  size that's larger than other tintypes of musicians in my collection. His dark color uniform, I'm guessing maroon red, has a cut-away jacket adorned with three rows of brass buttons. His hat is a style resembling British police helmets called custodian helmets first used by the London Metropolitan Police in 1870. 

Since this photo is a tintype it is a unique image that could not be reproduced. Light captured by the collodion emulsion on an iron plate created a reversed image like a mirror. Sharp eyes might have noticed that this man's button seam is on the wrong side and he seems to be holding a left-handed trombone. 

   

Flipping the image with digital software puts the instrument in its proper orientation, bell on left shoulder and slide on right. It also puts the eagle's arrows on the correct side of the insignia. I'm not sure about the cord hanging from his helmet. It may be a chin strap released for the photo. He looks like a young man in his early 20s or even late teens. Notice the photographer has tinted his cheeks pink. I bet it made his mother proud.

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* * * * *
* * * * *

This next photo is a cabinet photo of two bandsmen and a soldier, all wearing pointy helmets with white plumes. There is no mark for photographer or location. All I can guess is they are members of a state militia band somewhere in the United States in the late 19th century. Such bands were made of professional musicians who were hired as a group to perform for a state guard regiment's annual training camps and civic parades. The bandsmen did not serve in the regular army and were paid by each regiment. In 19th century America the most popular entertainment in every town or city was a parade. Any opportunity to rally around the flag and march along with a band excited the public. Regimental bands competed with each other to provide the best music and present the most splendid uniforms.

The two bandsmen play brass instruments and the one seated on the right holds a piston valve instrument with a large bell. The plumbing looks long enough to be a kind of folded up valve trombone. It might be a flugelhorn or bass trumpet, but for the purpose of my theme I'll call it a trombone. I'm sure it sounded the same notes. 

The bandsman on the left has a standard cornet, possibly the higher E-flat model. Their uniforms are very ornate with striped trousers, fancy embroidery and fringed epaulettes. There is a subtle nod to the Grand Seal of the United States as their button embroidery are leaves with thirteen points.

The soldier standing guard in the center is an unusual addition to this trio. Except for his pointy helmet, his unform is very different. He wears a longer coat with white gloves and holds a rifle with a long bayonet fixed to the end. I would not want to be challenged by him for the password of the day.

* * *
* * * * *
* * * * *

This bandsman's portrait is an unusual long 7½ x 4¼ inch Promenade mount but, like the previous photo, has no name of the photographer. The expanded size would have been suitable for a regular slide trombone but this fellow has a stubby piston valve trombone like the previous unknown bandsman. He cuts a fine figure with his trim uniform jacket which has three rows of buttons, a wide white belt and fringed epaulettes.

Piston valve trombones were popular in the 19th century as three valves simplified a traditional trombone's slippery slide system of infinite pitch. Different makers came up with several compact plumbing patterns which made the instrument easier to play while marching in a parade or mounted on a horse. 

According to my copy of the Encyclopedia of United States Army Insignia and Uniforms by William K. Emerson, his helmet eagle is a design from 1881 which added a banner in the eagle's beak. The shield would typically have the regiment's number. His helmet plume was white horsehair and on a detachable mount.

* * *
* * * * *
* * * * *

This next bandsman is another member of the three valved trombone society. He is seated with a casual crossed leg, fingers on the valve buttons, looking direct at us as if to ask, "Have we met before?" His uniform is similar to the previous bandsmen's kit though this man's epaulette fringe seems longer and he wears a white cross-sash belt, attached to which is a small satchel marked HOLYOKE.  His eagle is looking left not right, so I think it pre-dates the previous bandsman, maybe late 1870s. I think he uses a softer conditioner on his plume too. He looks like an affable chap who could tell a good story.

The photographer on this cabinet card photo has an imprint on the back, J. D. Crane Photographic Studio, of No. 63 Dwight St., Holyoke, Massachusetts. Duplicates can be had at any time.  

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* * * * *
* * * * *

My final trombonist under the eagle is pictured on a tintype, in a more typical 3¾ x 2¼ inch format. He wears a white coat with three rows of buttons and lots of gold braid knots, simple shoulder boards instead of fringe epaulettes, and a custodian helmet with a point but without a plume. This photo is fairly dark like most tintypes, but my digital software improves the contrast. His instrument is a B-flat tenor slide trombone which has hardly changed from the sackbut, the trombone's Renaissance ancestor, and remains the same as trombones seen in today's modern bands and orchestras. 

As I often do with tintypes, I reverse the image to the subject's true aspect. This places his trombone in the right orientation but it also revealed a very important detail that was not visible in the other bandsmen's photos. 

It's a number on the eagle.

A regiment number more significant

in the history of American bands
than any other number.

The number is 22, which makes this trombonist a member of one of the most celebrated professional bands of the 19th century, the Band of the Twenty Second Regiment of New York. It was lead by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore (1829–1892), an Irish-American composer and military bandmaster who immigrated to Boston in 1848. As a young man he established himself as a talented musician and bandleader with a variety of bands. In 1861 at the start of the Civil War, Gilmore's Band joined the 24th Massachusetts Volunteers, accompanying General Ambrose Burnside to North Carolina and later playing for Federal troops in New Orleans. He is credited with writing the lyrics to the song "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". Gilmore expanded a concert band instrumentation to include a larger woodwind section that made his band sound more like an orchestra. 

Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore (1829–1892)
Bandleader of the 22nd Regiment Band, c. 1890−92
Source: Wikimedia

After the war Patrick Gilmore organized massed orchestra and band concerts  with gigantic choruses for the National Peace Jubilee in 1869 and the World's Peace Jubilee and International Musical Festival in 1872. His success in Boston established him as the leading bandmaster of the postwar era. 

In 1873 Gilmore was invited to New York City to take over the band of the 22nd Regiment. This regiment was one of the premier elite state guards which was supported by many wealthy New York families. The band was its public image and with Gilmore it soon became known as "Gilmore's Band." 

Brooklyn Daily Times
21 March 1874

In New York the 22nd Regiment Band competed with fine bands from the 23rd and 7th Regiments. Band concerts were regular features in New York's society season and regimental bands offered a wide variety of music and solo artists. On one concert in March 1874 Gilmore promoted his friend, the great cornetist Matthew Arbuckle (1828–1883), and the saxophone virtuoso Edward A. Lefebre (1834–1911) who introduced New Yorkers to this new novel French instrument. He also had a trombone soloist, Herr Letsch on the same program.

Yonkers, NY Gazette
5 February 1881

 

Many instrumentalists in Gilmore's 22nd Regiment Band earned star billing on his programs and became as well known in New York's entertainment world as stage actors or opera singers. In a concert performed in February 1881 Gilmore listed a trombone soloist named C. Kappa. This was Carlo Alberto Cappa (1834–1893), an Italian-American trombonist who would go on to become a bandmaster in his own right. He is best remembered for leading the celebrated Seventh Regiment Band of New York which I recently featured on this blog in The Seventh Regiment Band, 

Rochester, NY Journal & Post Express
18 September 1883

In September 1883 at a concert in Rochester, New York, Gilmore listed another solo trombonist named Herr Stolz. These regimental bands attracted talented musicians from many nations like Germany, Italy, France, Belgium, and Great Britain. Gilmore's choice of the best soloists helped accelerate the growth of band music in America, especially because these bands also toured the country performing at expositions and state fairs. And everywhere they went, the band marched in a parade.

The Seventh Regiment Band on March
Harper's Weekly, vol. 33, 16 March 1889
Source: HathiTrust.org

This illustration from a March 1889 article in Harper's Weekly shows the Seventh Regiment Band marching on parade. The bandsmen wear tall white helmets with dark plums and dark tunics. The trombone section is in the front rank as their drum major leads the way. The postcard photo in my recent story on The Seventh Regiment Band was taken in 1905 when the band's uniforms, though still brilliant. had changed with the fashions of a new century. By 1900 guard regiments had replaced the pointy custodian helmet with more practical headgear. But for a time it was where the American eagle soared, sparkling atop the heads of spectacular marching bands. 

I will finish this collection of vintage trombonists
with a 2022 performance by the trombone section
of the United States Air Force Band with guest artist
George Curran, bass trombonist of the New York Philharmonic
in a Henry Fillmore's circus screamer, "Rolling Thunder".

And since I post this story on the 4th of July,
it seems fitting to hear the trombone quartet
of The United States Army Field Band
perform the "The Star-Spangled Banner" our national anthem.
It was  arranged by bass trombonist Master Sgt. Wesley Ballenger. 

Please stand.

For more trombonists wearing pointy hats
and fancy uniforms check out:

The Well-Dressed Trombonist
The Well-dressed Trombonist - Valve and Plume Edition
More Tinplated Brass, the Uniform Edition

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where London bridges can sometimes fall up, too.

The Ship's Musician

 

Some call it a life ring or a lifebuoy. 
Other names better describe its purpose,
a life-preserver or a life-saver.

But no matter what you call it,
everyone onboard a boat or ship
should know where it is and when to use it.

Your life may depend on it.

Royal Navy Protected cruiser H.M.S. Doris, circa 1910
Source: Wikimedia

This lifebuoy came from the H.M.S. Doris, one of nine second-class protected cruisers of the Eclipse-class built for Britain's Royal Navy in the mid-1890s. A protected cruiser had only an armored deck and was a lighter version of an armored cruiser which was protected by armored plate on both the deck and the ship's belt, i.e. the hull sides. I'll skip over the distinction between the other battlecruisers, heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and scout cruisers.  

Construction of the Doris, the fourth ship of the Eclipse-class, began on 29 August 1894 at the naval shipyard at Barrow-in-Furness in Cumbria, England and was completed on 18 November 1897. Six of the nine Eclipse protected cruisers were finished that same year.

Royal Navy Eclipse class cruiser diagrams
from "Brassey's Naval Annual" 1896
Source: Wikimedia

The ship was 350 ft (106.7 m) long with a beam of 53 ft 6 in (16.3 m) and displaced 5,600 long tons (5,690 t). Its twin propellers were powered by two triple-cylinder vertical engines which used steam supplied by 8 coal-fired boilers. The engines were capable of 8000 horsepower, giving the Doris a top speed of 18.5 knots. Its normal stockpile of coal was 550 tons, but there was reserve capacity for almost twice as much fuel at 1075 tons. The ship also had two masts for sail rigging, though I don't know how often, if at all, sails were used. Perhaps it was insurance for an emergency if the steam engines should fail.

As seen in this schematic of Eclipse-class cruisers, H.M.S. Doris positively bristled with guns on all sides of the ship. As originally built it had five 6-inch (152 mm) quick-firing guns, six 4.7-inch guns, six 3-pounder guns, and three 18-inch torpedo tubes. In 1905 it was refitted with six more 6-inch guns and nine 12-pounder guns in order to reduce the number of different size munitions. 

The ship's complement originally consisted of 393 officers and sailors, though, like most ships, this varied over time depending on its assignments. The reason for my interest in the H.M.S. Doris is that I found a postcard featuring just one serviceman from the cruiser. He was described as the ship's musician.

His instrument is not one usually associated with a navy, or the sea, for that matter.

He is a Scottish piper wearing full highland dress with feathered Glengarry hat, jacket, cross belt, plaid, kilt, dirk, sporran, stockings, and buckled brogues, not to mention a set of bagpipes too. The piper stands on the bottom step of a removable set of stairs that lead to a very odd, short doorway on the ship. 

From what little I have been able to discover, it was not uncommon in earlier times to have a piper assigned to a warship in the British Navy. It was likely a choice of the captain, who was presumably Scottish, to add musical color to the ship's daily rituals. Usually bugle players and drummers were used on warships as their sound could carry in the heat of battle and convey orders from the commander. In the age of sail a ship's musicians was often a fiddler who played tunes that helped the sailors toiling at a capstan while pulling lines or weighing anchor. I imagine a piper could do the same on a battleship whenever the crew was hauling coal or heavy rigging.

But compared to bugle calls I'm not sure the sound of bagpipes triggers the same level of warrior zeal in sailors, though its squeal can be pretty bloodcurdling. At least when played with gusto. 

This colorful postcard of the H.M.S. Doris, 2nd Class Cruiser shows the ship on a placid teal sea. The Doris did service during the Second Boer War (1899 – 1902) and later joined the Channel Fleet. In WW1 it was sent to the Mediterranean as part of the Allied forces opposing Turkey. In 1915 it was part of the naval support for the attack on the Gallipoli peninsula. From March 1917 to November 1918, the Doris was stationed in India, where she served as a hulk–a floating troops barracks. Following the end of the war, in February 1919 she was sold for scrap in Mumbai.

This postcard was sent from Weymouth, England to Mr. A. Slade, a Porter (?) in Chipping, Sodbury, England. The postmark is unclear but the green, half-penny stamp of King Edward VII puts it sometime pre- WW1.   

                                                        2 Charles St

                                Dear A.  Many thanks for P.C
                                I was surprised to hear of your
                                being at C. Sodbury, and am
                                glad you are on alright.
                                Are you going to have a trip
                                down here in the summer.
                                No doubt you have heard I am
                                back at Weymouth again. Hoping
                                you are quite well  I remain yours truly
                                                                            Jezlipr (?)

As I was preparing this short post I discovered a colorized version of the Ship's Musician from H.M.S. Doris, so I bought it. An unknown artist has given the piper's uniform beautiful detail, bringing out his tartan's color. But I can't decide which unit he is from, the two black tassels and green plaid are either the Gordon Highlanders or the Seaforth Highlanders. Or maybe some other clan. To be honest, Scottish plaids look like camouflage to me as it makes my eyes blur. However until I saw this colorized image I had not noticed the photo bombers in the picture.  

So what did the piper play on H.M.S. Doris? Did he perform regular hours or only on special occasions? Where did he practice? The sound of the pipes likely could be heard from ship's bilge to its crows nest. And how did he keep his kit clean? I don't think wool and seawater are a good mix.

But unlike the other sailors who needed to keep track of all the lifebuoys on the ship, a piper had the benefit of carrying his own personal flotation device.   

To best demonstrate Scottish bagpipes
here are two young Scots playing pipes and drum  
at a farmers market in Perth, Perthshire. 

The player blows air into the pipe bag
through a mouthpipe that has a small flap valve
where it connects to the bag. 

It is the pressure from the left arm on the bag
that propels the air to vibrate the reeds
of the chanter and drones.

It is not easy. 

For more pictures of pipers,
all sober and landlocked,
check out
The Sinister Piper
Four Well-dressed Pipers
The Piper and the Auld Brig o'Earn

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where boating safety is always first.

Austrian Horse Power

 

It's a dramatic moment that could easily be mistaken for a storyboard scene from an action movie. A squad of cavalrymen, actually hussars, chase after a huge airship soaring in the sky. The lead officer leader exclaims, "So leicht ist Zeppelin nicht zu fassen." ~ "A Zeppelin isn't that easy to catch." The horses look like they still want to try.

The artist of this postcard is Fritz Schönpflug (1873–1951), an Austrian postcard illustrator whose clever work I have enjoyed collecting for many years. I was originally attracted to his colorful and amusing caricatures of the people living in his native city of Wien (Vienna) during the final years of the Hapsburg Empire. But I soon discovered his postcards covered a much wider range of subjects than just quirky people. 

This spirited drawing was created in 1909 as indicated by the number 909 under Schönpflug's signature. It bears a striking similarity to another postcard by a different artist that I featured earlier this year in The Art of War – Aerial Assaults, part 1. 

In this thrilling painting by Anton Hoffmann (1863–1938), a painter and commercial artist from München, a half dozen horsemen of the 2nd Silesian Hussars Regiment, a distinguished cavalry unit of the Prussian Army, gallop after a Zeppelin that flies in the distance. My research found that this postcard was produced in 1913 as a benefit for a foundation sponsored by Germany's Crown Prince and Crown Princess. So it would seem that Schönpflug's 1909 sketch, which I believe depicts the same gallant Silesian regiment, inspired Hoffman's 1913 painting. 

Both pictures capture a thrilling moment when the time-honored military force of a cavalry encounters the new modern age of war machines. But what makes both pictures exciting is the way each artist portrays the movement of horses. Schönpflug was particularly skilled at drawing horses, which I've featured before, such as his carriage horses in Getting Around Old Wien part 3, and race horses in Horse Racing in Old Wien. Today I present some of Fritz Schönpflug's caricatures of horses and soldiers.

In this picture a group of German field artillerymen race up a hillside on horseback. Schönpflug expected his patrons to recognize that the soldiers were German by their leather Pickelhaube helmets, and that they were artillery because their hats were capped with a round knob instead of a sharp spike. The lead officer on a white horse shouts to one gunner, "Mensch, halt' dich Feste!" ~ "Man, hold on tight!" The horses appear to levitate with all four hooves above the ground. The officer's horse gives the impression it is thrilled to be given free rein to gallop at full speed. 

This card was never posted but Schönpflug's signature includes 909 for 1909. 

 In this picture a cavalry officer on horseback writes a message as cannons fire just beyond him. The officer is an Austrian dragoon signified by his light-blue tunic and tall crested helmet. His horse, not surprisingly, is alarmed at their position. The caption reads, "Aufklärungsdienst." ~ "Intelligence service." The subtle joke, of course, is that the officer's smartness is questionable when his horse knows they should not be so close to the field guns. 

This card was posted from Wien on 17 March 1912.

Schönpflug's human characters are sketched in a cartoon style with expressions that make us laugh at their foibles or foolishness. But his horses are not just stage props or animal figures in the background. He drew horses  carefully to show their natural strength and beauty. Yet a closer look reveals how Schönpflug gives each horse a personality that is reacting to the silly moment that he is illustrating.      

In this era many more horses were used as common draft animals than as gallant cavalry steads. And soldiers needed training to learn to drive wagons pulled by teams of horses. In this picture we see a soldier trying ineptly to control his runaway wagon. The pair of horses look to be having some fun exerting their full power. The caption reads:  "Der Herrenfahrer." ~ "The Gentleman Driver."

This card was never posted but Schönpflug's signature has 908 for 1908.

In this painting we see another collision between old military conventions and  the modern machine. An officer's horse is suddenly startled by the sight and sound of an automobile bringing army couriers with a message. The caption reads: "Feindliche Pferdekräfte." ~ "Hostile Horsepower." The joke is that sometimes the worst threat can come from someone on your own side. The horse appears genuinely insulted by this mechanical menace. 

This card was also never posted but has 909 next to Schönpflug's signature. All of his postcards were published in a series of six or eight different cards each  connected by a theme like these pictures of army maneuvers. Schönpflug was especially careful to get military uniforms correct because I think he sold a lot of postcards to soldiers. The brilliant colors of his pictures was another reason I was attracted to his artwork. Until I saw his postcards I never appreciated the difference between Prussian blue and Austria blue, since that is a distinction hidden in black and white photographs. 

My last postcard shows a wild cavalry charge by Austrian, or possibly Hungarian, cavalrymen. But they attack a field of geese and pigs! The caption reads: "Durch dick und dünn!" ~ "Through thick and thin!" The horses look a bit unsettled to be partaking in this unfair assault on defenseless livestock. 

The card has a postmark of 23 January 1911 from some place in Austria. The sender has used every available space on the front and back for their message. I wonder if putting the stamp of Kaiser Franz Joseph upside down coveys some secret message or political statement. 

I greatly admire how talented artists like Schönpflug were able to depict moments that in his time were impossible for photography to show. His artist eye caught all manner of funny human conceits but I think he depicts horses with a higher level of respect, showing us their natural nobility and steadfast virtues. You can see it in their eyes.  

There are many more postcards
of Fritz Schönpflug's horses in my collection
which I expect will be introduced
whenever I get stuck for an idea to write about. 

For the full list of my stories 
on Schönpflug's art

click this <link>.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where the best road trips
are never the adventure we expect.